


Twenty Years

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Happy Ending, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I saved you,” Clint says as Phil cradles the man in his lap.  “It took me twenty years, but I saved you.”</i>
</p><p>A fix-it variation before AoS gives us canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty Years

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Twenty Years](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1865799) by [wallisCACA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallisCACA/pseuds/wallisCACA)



The gun is not as heavy as Phil expected.

“You like this?” Phil asks, brandishing the weapon he pulled from the locker. “We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don't know what it does. Do you wanna find out?”

There’s a bright flash of light and Phil hears Thor cry out. When he spins around he finds Clint standing directly behind him with the end of Loki’s scepter protruding from his chest, Loki looking equally shocked as he pulls away. The scepter slips out of Clint’s body, the archer falls to the floor, and Phil fires. 

Phil doesn’t bother looking up to see Loki get blown through the wall behind him. He falls to his knees next to Clint, sets aside the Destroyer gun, and rolls Clint over.

This...this is not the Clint he knows. It is still unmistakably Clint - his beautiful eyes and loving smile, even tinged with blood, forever familiar and unchanged. The rest of this Clint, however, is decades older than the man Phil made love to the morning Pegasus collapsed. There are a multitude of wrinkles and scars that Phil does not know now marring the archer’s still handsome face, the signs of a life led amidst danger.

“I saved you,” Clint says as Phil cradles the man in his lap. “It took me twenty years, but I saved you.”

“Clint...what...” Phil tries to ask, but Clint shakes his head and then winces in pain. Phil holds him tighter, knowing from the amount of blood seeping through Clint’s shirt that there is not much to be done.

“I love you,” Clint whispers and Phil leans closer to hear clearly. “For twenty years it never faded. Cap is going to be pissed, but Stark understood. I had to try. I couldn’t not. I had to save you, Phil.”

“It’s okay Clint,” Phil soothes as the archer starts to become agitated. “I understand. It’s okay.”

The archer relaxes as Fury runs into the room. 

“Get a med team!” Phil orders over his shoulder, but Clint grips his arm with another shake of his head.

“No! Don’t,” he says, turning his eyes to Fury. “No use. It’s better this way. I don’t belong here, sir. Please.”

Fury, like the great SHIELD director he is, doesn’t skip a beat. He kneels next to his fallen agent and lays a strong hand on Clint’s shoulder.

“It has been a pleasure serving with you, Agent Barton.”

Clint smiles and Phil cannot hold back the choked noise that escapes from his throat. Fury stands, stepping back to give them some privacy as Clint turns his gaze back to Phil.

“He loves you, Phil,” Clint tells him. “The me that just got his sense knocked back into his head - he loves you. Don’t ever let him try to convince you otherwise. This is going to mess him up. Most of it was losing you, but there was still a whole load of other shit on top of that. I...he has a ring back at HQ. You...would you have said yes?”

“Yes. Of course. I love you...both of you,” Phil responds, brushing a lock of Clint’s hair back and managing not to cringe when it leaves a streak of red across the archer’s forehead. 

Clint beams and then clutches harder at Phil’s arm, his eyes already starting to go glassy. There’s a small noise behind them and Phil peripherally acknowledges that Fury has let Thor out of the cage and that they’ve now been joined by Stark and Rogers. 

“Loki’s at Stark Tower. I promised Tony I wouldn’t say anything else, but we come together and save the world, Phil - several times over. We become a team like you wanted,” Clint says frantically and Phil strains to hear his last words. “We become your dream and I know they’ll do it again. It just...it was never enough for me, not without you. I’m sorry if this makes it harder, but I couldn’t...Phil...I...all they needed was a push...”

Clint goes still, eyes unseeing, before going limp in Phil’s arms. Phil buries his face in Clint’s shoulder and struggles for control - knowing this is not his Clint does not make it hurt any less to watch him slip away. 

Silences settles heavily over the room and all Phil can hear is his own harsh breathing. A few long minutes pass before there is a strangled gasp from the door.

“That’s not...” Natasha says, voice rough despite her disbelief. "It can't be. I left him unconscious in the infirmary."

“We know it’s not Barton,” Fury answers, “but it was still _a_ Barton.”

Phil lifts his head as Natasha drops to her knees next to Clint and grips his hand. She looks as distraught as he feels and it’s that shock which spurs Phil into pulling himself together at last. They have a job to do, if for no other reason than not to waste this Clint's final sacrifice. 

“I need you to sit with Clint,” Phil requests. “He’ll need you there when he wakes up.”

“He’ll need to see you too,” Natasha argues. 

“I know. I just...I need to take care of him first,” Phil explains, nodding down to the body in his arms. 

Natasha leans down to brush her lips across the older Clint’s forehead, murmuring something in Russian that Phil purposely chooses not to overhear. She steps away, letting the medical team move forward with a stretcher to carry Clint’s body away. Phil doesn’t look at the others as he stands and follows them down to the morgue. 

“We don’t have the time to take care of him now, Agent Coulson,” one of the medics apologizes, handing Phil a towel that does little to remove the blood from Phil’s hands. “We’ll keep him safe though.”

“I understand,” Phil responds. 

He can’t tear his eyes away from Clint’s body as they place it on a drawer and slide it into the refrigerator. An involuntary shudder runs through Phil when they shut the door - too many times in their past and too many potential future scenarios that could end this way crowding in his mind. 

“Thank you,” he finally says to the medic and leaves the morgue to seek out the Clint who’s still alive and whole. 

Phil isn’t expecting to stumble upon Thor, Stark, and Rogers still bickering with one another on his way to the infirmary.

“We need to find Banner,” Stark argues.

“We don’t have time for that,” Steve fires back.

“Aye,” Thor agrees. “We cannot dally while my brother prepares to make use of the Tesseract.”

“I’m not dallying,” Stark retorts, “but he could be anywhere. What do you want me to do? Fly around in circles until I find it?”

“So much for being a genius,” Steve mutters. 

“I don’t hear any better ideas from the two of you!” Stark responds hotly. “Capsicle here is worthless, but what about you Fabio? Your hammer have any real magic?”

“Enough!” yells Phil and he steps forward before fully registering his actions. “Clint said that Loki is at Stark Tower. Are you going to stop him or would you prefer to argue some more? He may have been an older version of the man I know, but I still watched the man I love die today, so forgive me if I have no patience to deal with your senseless bickering. It’s time for you to get your heads out of your asses and be the heroes we all hope you are. Clint said you needed a push, so here it is.”

Phil plants both hands on Steve’s chest and shoves. The Captain, not expecting the move, stumbles backward onto Tony and only Thor’s steadying hand keeps them from going down in a heap. The men look at Phil with varying degrees of shock.

“I don’t know about the three of you, but I have a job to do,” Phil says angrily, straightening his tie and jacket before walking out of the room.

Phil forces himself to be calmer by the time he reaches the infirmary. Clint and Natasha are sitting on the bed talking quietly when Phil enters. Not giving Clint time to speak, Phil takes three quick steps forward and pulls him up for a kiss. 

“I’ve been so worried,” they say in unison when they break apart. 

Clint looks down in horror at the blood on Phil’s hands. “Not mine,” Phil quickly assures him.

“Phil,” Clint says, gripping the lapels of Phil’s jacket tightly and resting their foreheads together. “I could have...”

Phil closes his eyes and lets his hands rest on Clint’s hips. There’s a rustle of fabric as Natasha stands and starts to leave, only to be interrupted by Steve appearing at the door. 

“Iron Man and Thor are getting set to fly out for Stark Tower, but we’re gonna need a ride,” Steve says to Natasha. “Can you fly one of those jets?”

“Hawkeye can,” Phil answers for them, opening his eyes and pulling back slightly to look at Clint. 

Clint looks back into Phil’s confident eyes for a moment before turning his head to nod at Steve.

“You got a suit?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Clint responds.

“Then suit up.”

Natasha smirks at them and leaves the room with Steve. Once they're alone, Phil takes the time to give Clint another tender kiss.

“Be safe,” he orders gently before stepping back away from Clint. “I’ll clear the jet with the bridge.”

“Thank you, sir,” Clint nods and starts to walk out, but pauses at the door. “Phil?”

“Yes, Clint?” Phil asks, looking long and hard at other man - memorizing every detail of having him back. 

“I love you,” Clint says and some of the tension leaves Phil’s shoulders.

“I love you, too,” Phil responds. “Now go save the world.”

Clint grins fiercely and takes off. Phil looks down at his hands, still stained with dried blood, and follows him out to head to the bridge.

He strides onto the bridge just as Hill is announcing an unauthorized takeoff.

“Authorized,” Phil calls out.

“Nice of you to join us, Agent Coulson,” Fury greets, eyes darting to the window as Thor and Iron Man streak by before looking back to Phil. “Care to share with the class?”

“The Avengers are headed to Stark Tower,” Phil relays. “Can we move?”

“No. We're barely in the air,” Fury responds and turns to Hill. “Get our communications back up, whatever you need to do. I want eyes on everything.”

It takes a frustratingly long time to get their communications back online. By the time they start getting comm chatter and video feeds from the cameras scattered throughout the streets of New York, the Avengers are beginning to act like a team instead of individuals fighting in the same battle.

Phil is unable to take his eyes away from the monitors, feeling helpless as he watches more and more Chitauri come through the portal. Phil and Fury are both so intent on watching the battle that they startle when Maria interrupts.

“Sir. The council is on.”

Fury looks at Phil before switching his screen to the World Security Council’s call. The council wastes no time getting to the point. Phil has to lock his knees to keep from reacting to the news that WSC want to nuke New York.

“Director Fury, the council has made a decision,” says one of the faceless voices.

“I recognize the council has made a decision, but given that it’s a stupid ass decision, I’ve elected to ignore it,” Fury responds.

“Director, you’re closer than any of our subs, you scramble that jet...” orders another council member.

“That is the island of Manhattan, Councilman,” Fury reminds him. “Until I’m certain my team can’t hold it, I will not order a nuclear strike against a civilian population.”

“If we don’t hold them in the air,” retorts the first Councilman, “we lose everything.”

“I send that bird out, we already have,” Fury says with finality and shuts off his screen.

Phil looks at his longtime friend with concern. “Do you think that will hold them off?”

Fury doesn’t bother answering, which is more than answer enough.

“Sir, we have a bird in motion!” Hill calls out and Phil takes off running. He can hear Hill continuing to issue orders over the comm. “Anyone on the deck, we have a rogue bird. We need to shut it down. Repeat. Take off is not authorized.”

Phil hits the last corridor leading to the deck wishing he’d held onto the Destroyer weapon, but makes do with grabbing an RPG on his way. The sunlight is near blinding when Phil bursts onto the deck, forcing him to blink a few times before he takes aim and hits the jet, sending it skidding down the carrier. He lets out a breath of relief that’s stalled by the scream of a second jet taking off. Phil pulls out his sidearm, but knows it’s no use.

“Fury, this is Coulson,” Phil says into his comm. “I couldn’t stop the second jet. Tell the Avengers they have incoming."

Phil runs back inside and makes it back onto the bridge just as Natasha is relaying that she can close the portal.

“Do it,” Steve tells her.

“No, wait!” Stark counters.

“Stark, these things are still coming,” Steve argues.

“I got a nuke coming in, it’s gonna blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it.”

Phil looks on in awe as Stark grabs the missile and flies it toward the portal.

“Stark,” Steve asks softly, “you know that’s a one way trip?”

Whatever Tony says next isn't heard over the comm. The video feed shows Tony and the missile disappear into the portal and the crew begins to cheer. Phil can only hold his breath hoping that Tony’s luck hasn’t quite run out.

“Close it,” Steve orders Natasha. 

The portal begins to close and Phil sees something falling back to earth - Stark. He continues to watch as Iron Man is no longer visible behind the skyline. When Steve doesn't immediately provide his status, Phil walks over to a console to secure a more private comm channel. 

“Hawkeye, Widow, report,” he orders.

“I’ve got Selvig,” Natasha says. “Portal’s closed for good.”

“I’m okay,” Clint responds a second later, sounding breathless. “A little banged up and sick of running down flights of stairs, but otherwise okay. Hitting the street now. Looks like Stark’s up and mobile.”

There’s a few minutes pause before Clint speaks again, sounding pleased. “Widow, hang tight. Guess we’re coming to you.”

“Periodic check-ins,” Phil requests.

“Yes, sir,” both of his assets respond in tandem. 

Phil looks up to see Fury standing in front of him. 

“They did good work today,” Fury says. 

“They all did, sir,” Phil agrees.

Fury looks down and it takes Phil a second to realize that the director is looking down at the blood still marring Phil’s hands and clothes.

“I trust you’ll assure Barton that nothing he did under Loki’s control will be held against him,” Fury says.

“Easier said than done,” Phil replies. 

Fury inclines his head in agreement and starts to walk away, but puts a friendly hand on Phil’s shoulder as he passes. “You take care of Clint and I’ll keep the WSC away from him.”

“Thank you, Nick.”

The director gives Phil’s shoulder a squeeze before nodding toward the hallway. “Go get cleaned up. We can survive here for a few minutes without you.”

Phil takes Fury up on his offer, slipping quietly out of the bridge and up to his temporary quarters. He quickly strips out of his ruined suit, forcing himself not to dwell on the blood. He doesn’t let himself linger in the shower and smiles at what he finds in the closet.

His relationship with Clint is an open secret at SHIELD, not that the organization has ever aligned itself with the military’s fraternization policies. It’s been over two years since they stopped denying their mutual attraction and acknowledged that their feelings went far deeper than just friendship or trust between a handler and asset. Phil isn’t surprised to find that an enterprising junior agent has placed, next to a neat row of Kevlar-enforced designer suits, several of the SHIELD uniforms that Clint favors when he’s not in his field suit. Phil lets his fingers trail over the shoulder of one of Clint’s jackets, overwhelmingly grateful for this second chance that they’ve been given. 

The comm he’d dropped on the small dresser beeps, effectively snapping Phil out of his reverie. He dresses quickly and places the comm back in his ear.

“Coulson,” Phil answers.

“We’re about to set down in New York harbor,” Hill tells him. 

“On my way.” 

Phil shrugs into his jacket and heads back for the bridge, the next several hours spent coordinating cleanup between SHIELD, the NYPD, Port Authority, and FDNY. It takes a few hours before the National Guard begin arriving and it’s several hours after that before Phil can go in search of Clint. 

The Avengers had returned a bound and gagged Loki to the carrier, the god now in the brig under the watchful eyes of his brother and Captain America. Banner had refused to step back onto the carrier and, as far as Phil knew, he’d returned to the damaged Tower with Stark. Natasha had checked in with Phil an hour before, but there has been no sign of the archer.

Clint has always felt things deeper than most people give him credit for, so it’s not a surprise for Phil to find him in the morgue - it is both a good place to avoid the other agents and a suitable place to start his penance. What does startle Phil is finding Clint looking solemnly down at his older self.

“Clint?” Phil asks as he steps closer. Clint looks up and Phil’s heart clenches at the haunted look in his eyes. “I was going to tell you...”

“Minimum intel to do the job is SOP,” Clint responds with a hint of his usual humor, eyes softening. “I’m not mad. I get it. I had more than enough to deal with without knowing how close you came to dying on me. We can argue later about your trying to take on an attention-seeking god without backup.”

Phil has to agree that now is not the time to bring up an old argument. It’s not something he expects them to ever see eye-to-eye on. Clint has no problem with jumping head first into danger, but chafes any time Phil gets within a hundred yards of live fire. Phil, on the other hand, sees nothing wrong with facing off against the Destroyer with only his sidearm and yet constantly browbeats R&D to ensure that Clint’s equipment maximizes his chances of survival in any situation. The fight after New Mexico had been days long and exhausting, with no actual resolution, but had ended with them using the word love for the first time. 

“Who told you?” Phil asks.

Clint holds up a Starkpad. “Stark muttered something about cellists, bows, and keeping love alive before handing me this with the recorded camera feed already queued up.” Clint pauses and looks back down at his older self. “He saved your life.” 

“ _You_ saved my life,” Phil stresses. “The extra twenty years he lived doesn’t make him any less you.”

Clint pushes the drawer back and shuts door, leaning against it while keeping his head bowed and back to Phil. 

“I don’t know how he did it,” Clint whispers, “survived losing you. I’m not sure I could...”

“I am,” Phil says confidently, turning Clint to face him. “You’re a survivor. It’s one of the many things I love about you. Knowing you continued to live, to fight, doesn’t make me think you love me any less. His being here...it’s staggering to know you love me that much.”

“I do,” Clint affirms. “I know I don’t always make it easy on you, but I do, Phil. I love you and I would make the same choice he did again and again if it meant I could save you.”

“I know that, Clint,” Phil assures him. “I never doubted it before today and I won’t ever doubt it again. I just hope it never has to come to that.”

“We don’t exactly live quiet lives,” Clint reminds him.

“I understand and I’m not expecting to change that,” Phil says, stepping closer until he can place a hand against Clint’s jaw and the archer’s hands automatically move to Phil’s hips. “I want you to know, that whatever happens from here, I will never regret loving you for however long we have together.”

Phil leans forward and kisses Clint, sealing his promise and reinforcing their faith in one another.

“What now?” Clint asks when the kiss ends. “The fallout from all of this is going to be pretty massive.”

“We rebuild and we keep fighting,” Phil responds. “Whatever’s ahead for us, we’ll face it together.”

“And if one us falls, the other will survive,” Clint says, acknowledging his own mortality along with Phil’s. “Because it’s what _we_ do.”

“Because it’s what we do,” Phil agrees. “For right now though, I think we could both use some sleep.”

Phil leads a clearly exhausted Clint out of the morgue and up to their temporary quarters. They settle onto the too-small bed, letting the familiar comfort of being in each other’s arms lull them quickly to sleep.

With the future an uncharted path before them, this is the only certainty they need. 

_fin_


End file.
